By Alabi Nimah
A group of young colleagues, including me, embarked on what was supposed to be a simple trip from Ibafo, Ogun State, to Lagos for a book reading at Lekki Peninsula College. But what began as an excitement soon turned into a day filled with confusion, exhaustion, laughter, and unexpected lessons about life in Lagos.
The trip took place on October 8th, 2025, under the guidance of our boss and Director of everydaylagos , Mr Akeem Lasisi , who drove us from Ibafo to an area in Lagos, Berger, before we continued on our own. At Berger, we found a bus heading to Lekki, but the fare — ₦3,500 per person — seemed too high. Hoping to save costs, we decided to head to another residential area , Ogudu , for a cheaper ride, not knowing we were trading money for stress.
After waiting almost 45 minutes, we finally boarded an old, shabby bus to Lekki. The air was thick, the seats torn, and our only guide was Google Maps. Confusion set in when we reached “Lekki Peninsula Scheme,” a name close to our destination but not quite right. Unsure, we relied on a stranger’s advice to stop at Lekki Ikate and that was when the real Lagos experience began.
Four different people gave four different directions, and even Google Maps failed us. After endless walking, phone calls, and rising frustration, we discovered the address was wrong: it was Osapa Lekki, not Lekki Phase 2.
However, after knowing the exact place we were going, we took a vehicle to Osapa Lekki. Tired but determined, we crossed the road, bought some water and Gala, asked the bike riders for help, and finally located the school.
The event had already begun, but it was worth the struggle. We were fortunate enough to see Matatu award winner and author of the novel A ladder of bones, Dr Bunmi Oyinsan, live and direct while still enjoying her words of wisdom.
On our way back, however, Lagos gave us another test. We stopped at a filling station to use the restroom, only to be charged ₦500 for a facility that was dirty and barely usable. With no buses in sight, we trekked from Osapa to Lekki Ikate under the fading sun.
Somewhere along the walk, one of my colleagues said, “Lagos has a smell.” It was more than a joke, it was the truth. The city carried the scent of sweat, fuel, food, dust, and determination. It was the smell of survival, of millions working tirelessly each day.
Eventually, our Director sent us some money for food, and after waiting another 40 minutes for a bus to Iyana Oworo, we finally made it home , exhausted but grateful.
That day, we saw the Lagos behind the glamour, the one filled with hustle, traffic, and resilience. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. The Lagos journey we experienced wasn’t just a trip; it was a reminder that behind every chaotic street and smoky breeze lies a city full of strength, struggle, and stories waiting to be told.